Sleepy
by Oparu
Summary: Beverly arrives home late and Kathryn's too tired to do more than watch.


Even when "I told you so" is appropriate, biting my tongue seems to be more so. I warned her that participating in the emergency preparedness drills would be three times more exhausting than it was last time Starfleet Command dragged us through them. The medical side of things involves more stacking of medkits and planning deployment than running up and down the corridors of Starfleet headquarters with a phaser rifle. Apparently there was hand-to-hand with mock-Borg, and Seven of Nine was involved in the Borg takeover of headquarters that ended with us all assimilated and dead.

Former Borg gloating does exist and it's hilarious in its subtlety. I can't say much, because Kathryn and the other admirals don't take defeat well, even a mock defeat.

Kathryn curled up on my side of the bed, successfully eliciting sympathy from the cat, neatly falls into the realm of "I told you so" both for her level of exhaustion and the fact that the Maestro is indeed a caring, kindly creature.

She did manage to undress herself most of the way, and her uniform is on the floor: jacket by the door of the bedroom, trousers near the bed and one stray sock visible while the other hides. Kathryn opens her eyes with great effort as I retrieve her abandoned bra and drop it into the laundry.

"Don't-"

I lean down and rub the Maestro's head, then stroke hers as if she too were a half-asleep feline. "I said nothing."

"I could hear you thinking it."

"Was I thinking too loudly?"

"Yes." She hugs my pillow closer and I smirk, watching her eyes drift shut again. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

Circling to the closet, I slip out of my own uniform and ask the computer to turn the lights down before I slip into Kathryn's side of the bed. It's strange to have her between me and the door, and her pillow is different. Logically, it's the same as mine yet, it's not. I've had mine for enough time to know it. Kathryn's pillow leads a much harder life: occasionally on the floor and as the favourite of the cat's. I curl into her, spooning up.

"Only trying?"

Kathryn pats my hand as it rests on her chest. Her warm fingers toy with mine and I nuzzle her shoulder.

"My body gave up on me hours ago and my mind might be in shock."

"It does happen," I agree. Pulling up my knees against the back of her legs, I sigh contentedly. Skin pressed against skin is the ideal way to end the day.

"Don't sigh like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you do."

"Like I do what?"

Kathryn turns her head slightly towards me. "I missed you."

"Dying for company while you turned your desk into a barricade?" I run my hand down her stomach, saying hello and good night to Three. Kathryn clings to my hand a little tighter before she relaxes. "Is Admiral Engels that terrible of a shot?"

"Some of the admiralty have been behind their desks so long they don't remember how to hold a phaser rifle properly, let alone fire one." Her derisive sniff suggests it may have been more than some.

"Not you."

"I may have overdone it, somewhat." Her charming knack for understatement rears itself again when rolling over comes with a groan of stiff muscles.

The cat leaves the bed gracefully, fleeing her movement lazily, as if he felt it long before she moved. He trots off into the living room, in search of quieter places to sleep now that his duties as a confidant have been discharged.

"Want me to fix it?"

"Can you hypospray away tired?" Kathryn shakes her head and replaces my hand against her stomach once she settles on her back. "I'm fine. I'm going to be off-world for the next drill, no matter who I have to bribe."

"Will you let me relieve your poor muscles in the morning?"

She nods and I allow myself to be convinced that she means it. "In the morning. Right now I'd rather you didn't move."

In the morning, Kathryn lacks the willpower to put up much of a fight and taking advantage of that has won me several arguments. She knows this as well as I do, yet having me in bed is more important than avoiding my tricorder tomorrow.

Kathryn's eyes fix on mine in that soft, vaguely possessive way and I prop myself up enough to kiss her forehead. Usually that's too maternal of a gesture, but she's more than physically exhausted.

"War games get to you?"

"I understand the importance of contingency plans. I've run emergency drills. I've told my crew they were dead hundreds of times."

She's searching for something, but there's too much annoyance in the lines of her forehead for her to know what it is.

"This time it got to you?"

Sighing again, she glances down at the duvet covering our hands. "It's not another pregnancy hazard, is it?"

"Some women do feel more emotional, or report that their emotional focuses are different."

"Is that the polite medical way of saying the idea of being slaughtered by the Borg makes you want to spend all of your lunch crying beneath your desk?"

I trace my fingers over her stomach, toying with the hem of her shirt. Her legs are bare and she's down to her grey vest. Her legs are warm against mine and snuggling up against her is the best part of my day, even when she doesn't pounce on me as she has been. "I don't think you need to be pregnant for that."

This time Kathryn sighs and it has the sexual edge to it that heats my stomach. She knows what she's doing. I raises my eyebrows, she licks her lips and I lean in to follow her tongue with mine, then kiss her.

"Would you do something for me?"

I drag a hand through my hair, fishing out the minor tangles before they can become knots overnight. "Most likely. You're usually convincing."

Kathryn waves me in, bidding that I rest my head on her chest so I can hear her. "I want to watch."

"Watch?"

She hums, a dark little sound that promises to go straight to my thighs. "I don't have the energy, even if you got out your medkit, but my head doesn't know that. If I can't make love to you, I want to watch you do it."

I laugh, shaking my head until I realise she's serious. "That's new."

"Is new all right?"

"Of course it is." I kiss her again, and again when she seems unsure. "Should I prop you up so you can watch my hand?"

Kathryn half-rolls her eyes at me, then strokes my cheek. "I want to watch your eyes."

"You have to talk to me."

"Oh?"

I nod, rubbing her hand with mine before I steal it back to rest it on my stomach. "Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

She raises her eyebrows, and her lips quirk as if drunk with power. "I'll need to get my list."

I wait, letting her decide exactly what she wants.

"Start with your breasts."

"Oh?"

"I like those."

I sit up a little, sliding mu hand down my neck. I trace my nipple, teasing it slowly erect. "You are fond of them."

"They're beautiful. You're beautiful."

"Thank you." I run my hand lazily down my stomach, watching her eyes drift after my fingers. "I'm glad you think so."

The naked lust in her eyes and the whispers that follow easily raise my arousal. She watches me, half-scientist, because she can never let that go, and half-searcher. Kathryn has a sense of wonder unique and intensely her own. Being the centre of that, the focus of all her power, is like being the middle of the universe. For the moment, I am and that only adds fire. The funny thing about sex is that it ends wet and panting. Fire ends up dry and empty, sex is more like rain. This ends with me wrapped around her, and her toying with my wet fingers.

"Maestro agrees with me."

"Oh?" I nuzzle into her neck, letting her finish.

"He thinks you're very beautiful, for a human of course."

"He does wish we had tails, doesn't he?" I drape my leg over hers.

Kathryn kisses my head, pulling me closer. "He understands our limitations. He's magnanimous like that."


End file.
